


Don't Forget To Call

by its_a_pretty_interesting_wall



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alexander Pierce makes a very minute appearance through character dialogue and he's still a dick, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brock Rumlow is a dick, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, M/M, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Past James "Bucky" Barnes/Brock Rumlow - Freeform, Past Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers, Peggy Carter is a badass and my wife, Sam Wilson is a Saint, Steve has his freedom beard because yess, bucky is clueless
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-05 19:07:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17330687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/its_a_pretty_interesting_wall/pseuds/its_a_pretty_interesting_wall
Summary: He  was staring, but he could hardly register it. Clint and Natasha, however quickly became aware of Bucky’s gawking form, and following his gaze they found the man.“Him,” Clint whispered.“Yup,” Natasha quickly said, “Bucky?” she said, suddenly a lot louder.“Yeah?” he said turning to his friends but not enough that he lost sight of the man, now sat at the counter.“We’ve decided,” Natasha said, to which Bucky only hummed in agreement, “You can quit staring, go talk to him.”OrHow Clint and Natasha bullied Bucky into talking to the most attractive man he's ever seen





	1. Bucky Barnes : Sex God

**Author's Note:**

> I was on tumblr instead of doing my coursework and found a prompt list for First Meeting AU's, naturaly the only reasonable thing to do was write my first Stucky Fic.  
> This was also meant to be a one shot but now it's not. I have no idea if I'll write one more chapter, or if I'll write a thousand, and I also don't know when I'll update because I have other fics in progress as well as a writing chalenge, but it will happen eventually.

Bucky couldn’t believe this, it was like Natasha wanted to aggravate him. Why did she have to question his ability to take someone home? You’d think she’d never seen him do it before.  
“Tasha, you know damned well I could take anyone in this bar home with me tonight, I am a sex god,” Bucky told her for the nth time that night.  
“No,” she started again, “I know damned well that you do great at getting people way below your level of attractiveness home. Which is fine, I mean, I’m in a committed relationship with this sappy labrador but I could do better. Physically I could do better.”  
“That really hurts my feelings, babe,” Clint told her, “But it’s true, I got fucking lucky, you know you love me though.”  
“That I do,” Natasha said before turning back to Bucky, “You however have terrible taste in partners. Both the ones you date, and the ones you take home.”  
“I do not,” Bucky said offended.  
“Rumlow,” Clint started.  
“Banner,” Natasha added.  
“Rumlow,” Clint repeated.  
“Dugan,” she continued.  
“Rumlow,” Clint said yet again.  
“Rumlow,” Natasha agreed.  
“Alright I get it. Brock was a dick. We can move on from that,” Bucky said exasperated.  
“Sure, as soon as you admit that you always aim low,” Natasha said with a shrug, “Or you can prove me wrong, Barnes,” she smirked.  
“I will! What do you want me to do?”  
“Pick up someone,” Clint said.  
“Done. How about him?” Bucky asked them pointing to the man sat a few tables over.  
“Goatee guy? No,” Natasha sighed, “We meant someone on your level, James.”  
“Fine you choose.”  
Bucky sat back while his friends scanned the bar looking for someone. It was taking forever, whenever Clint pointed at someone Natasha deemed him not worthy, and vice versa. They had looked around the whole place twice now, and Bucky was beginning to lose his temper. Until he looked at the door.  
The sight that struck him was almost too good to believe. The man that had just walked in was possibly the most gorgeous person Bucky had ever seen. His hair was on the longer side but not too much, messy from the wind outside with a few golden strands falling forwards, framing his beautiful face, and his beard. God, Bucky wanted to kiss him until he felt the burn of the man’s perfect beard on his face for weeks. And then he took off his coat. And that made everything so much worse, Bucky couldn’t stop staring at his broad shoulders, the way his waist was impossibly small, his long legs moving effortlessly, as if they weren’t carrying the most perfect guy Bucky had ever laid eyes on. He was staring, but he could hardly register it. Clint and Natasha, however quickly became aware of Bucky’s gawking form, and following his gaze they found the man.  
“Him,” Clint whispered.  
“Yup,” Natasha quickly said, “Bucky?” she said, suddenly a lot louder.  
“Yeah?” he said turning to his friends but not enough that he lost sight of the man, now sat at the counter.  
“We’ve decided,” Natasha said, to which Bucky only hummed in agreement, “You can quit staring, go talk to him.”  
“What?” he asked almost shocked, “Tasha, no, look at him.”  
“You know damned well I could take anyone in this bar home with me tonight, I am a sex god,” Natasha simply said.  
“Your words, Barnes,” Clint shrugged, “Not hers.”  
“He’s clearly straight. You know that right,” Natasha raised an eyebrow. Clint rolled his eyes. Bucky admitted defeat, “Fine, I’m going.”  
Bucky got up and started walking towards the man, the closer he got the more beautiful he looked. So he reached behind his head and untied his hair, it looked better softly framing his face, one more step and he decided pushing the sleeves of his shirt up was in his best interest. He took the last few steps to the counter, mentally preparing himself to start charming the man as soon as he got there. And finally he was stood there, in front of this beautiful stranger, so he opened his mouth to start speaking and the stranger looked at him. He looked at Bucky with his perfect blue-green eyes, and his crooked nose, and his red lips that were begging to be kissed, and bitten. His breath would be forever caught in his throat, of that Bucky was certain.  
“Are you okay?” the stranger asked him.  
“I- umm, I,” and that’s when Bucky realised Natasha had been right, he was no sex god, there was no way he’d be able to charm this man’s pants off, so he gave up before he even started, “Hi! I’m Bucky,” he said offering his hand for the man to shake.  
“Hi, Bucky. I’m Steve.”  
Steve. Now that was a name Bucky could see himself saying. Yelling. Moaning. Just about anything, really.  
“Hi, Steve. I’m going to be honest here. Earlier I told my friends I could pick up anyone in this bar because I’m a sex god and they took it upon themselves to ruin my faith in myself, and chose you. I’m not under the impression that you’ll actually leave this place with me tonight, but I don’t like to lose,” crap Bucky only ever intended to let Steve know he was doing this because of his friends, he didn’t have to know Bucky was a self proclaimed sex god.  
“So what do you want from me?” Steve asked him with a smirk.  
Bucky could think of a few things he wanted from Steve, but that was neither here nor there, “If could be so kind as to type your name in my phone and give a fake number.”  
“Sure,” Steve said holding out his hand for Bucky’s phone, “Your friends, are they the redhead and the blond?” he asked, and Bucky noticed how nicely his eyebrow had risen.  
“Yes,” he managed to say, “Why? Are they staring?”  
“Yes they are,” Steve said, “You should kiss my cheek.”  
Bucky was sure his brain had short circuited, “I should what?”  
“Kiss my cheek,” Steve repeated handing Bucky his phone back, “Before you go? So your friends see it.”  
“Oh! Right! That makes sense!”  
Bucky leaned forward letting his hand rest on Steve’s bicep, fighting the urge to squeeze it, and then let his lips touch the soft skin of Steve’s cheek, making sure to drag them down a bit just so he could know how that beard felt like against his lips.  
“Thank you, Steve,” Bucky said already starting to leave.  
“You’re welcome, Bucky,” Steve told him, “Don’t forget to call me.”  
“Will do,” Bucky laughed.  
He walked back to the table where Clint and Natasha sat staring at him.  
“So that was quick,” she quickly shot at him.  
“Told you, Tasha, I’m a sex god,” Bucky said unlocking his phone turning it towards his friends, “It’s right there, Steve 678-136-7092.”  
Natasha stared at Bucky’s face for what felt like an hour, “It’s fake,” she said nonchalantly.  
“No it’s not,” Bucky said defensively.  
“Oh really? You’re telling me you got that guy’s number in less than 5 minutes? I’m calling bullshit Barnes,” she said, “Wanna prove me wrong? Call him.”  
If only Bucky could run away and hide, but there was nowhere Natasha wouldn’t find him, “Call him? I just got his number. He’ll think I’m desperate.”  
“So? If he really liked you enough to give you his number this quickly it shouldn’t matter,” she challenged him.  
“Okay,” he said. Oh but it was a terrible idea. He told Steve to give him a fake number how was Bucky supposed to lie with to the two of them sat right in front of him?  
He pressed the number, and lifted his phone to his ear, the beep was deafening, and it seemed to go on forever, until someone picked up, oh this would be terrible it wasn’t just a fake number it was an owned fake number, Bucky was truly and surely screwed.  
“Hello?” someone asked on the other side of the line. And Bucky new that voice, he hadn’t had the chance to listen to it a whole lot, but he knew it.  
“Hi! It’s Bucky,” he said with a stupid smile taking over his lips.  
“I know I said call me but this is a bit soon, don’t you think?”  
“Oh I know, say Steve, if I asked you to look in my direction and wave do you think you’d be able to do that?”  
“Your friends I’m guessing?” Steve asked with a chuckle.  
“Yeah,” Bucky signaled at Clint and Natasha to look in Steve’s direction, “Can you wave now?” and across the bar Steve’s hand rose and he waved at Bucky’s friends, Clint even waved back, “Thank you, Steve.”  
“You’re welcome, Bucky.”  
“Okay, bye now,” Bucky said.  
“Bye. Don’t forget to call me, I do want to find out if you really are a sex god if that was all talk,” Steve told him, and Bucky could swear he heard the smirk in his voice.  
“Oh I will,” Bucky said bye one more time before turning off the call and smiling like a fool at his phone.  
“Well I have to say I’m impressed. Maybe you are a sex god, James,” Natasha said.  
“Yeah, I’m a little jealous,” Clint said, “he’s a good looking dude.”  
“That he is,” Bucky said getting up.  
“What are you doing?” Natasha asked.  
“Now? Nothing,” he smiled, “Later, hopefully Steve.”


	2. Steve Rogers: Secretly Infatuated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One night, three months in, Steve walked into The Falcon, shrugged off his coat and went straight to his spot on the counter. He didn’t spare the rest of the place a single glance, he didn’t want to know if Bucky was there and he didn’t want to spend another night trying to stop himself from ogling him.
> 
> OR 
> 
> Steve's POV of the events that propted him to give Bucky his real number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is longer than the last, but I really think this is how the story had to go. We don't really see how the relationship will progress just yet, but I find that this backstory was immensely needed, so I hope you enjoy!  
> A huge thank you to [my wonderful friend and beta, Amanda](https://stanclub.tumblr.com) you should totally check out her fics either on tumblr or [ AO3 ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stanclub/pseuds/stanclub/works) and I do feel the need to say she has a wonderful Stucky fic going on called Transatlanticism that you can find on her Masterlist (in her blog bio on Tumblr) that you should definitly read because it's AMAZING.   
> I'll shut up now.

Steve’s alarm clock went off at 7am. He got up, showered, brushed his teeth and picked up his razor to shave. Then, he got dressed, had breakfast and left for work just the same as any other morning. He got to work at 08:30 am, a half an hour early, and got himself a coffee while he waited for everyone else to get in. At 5 pm he left, went home to make dinner and waited for his girlfriend to call him. They’d agreed she’d call, since her work hours weren’t regular. 

 

But Sharon never did call. In fact,she hadn't called at all in the past week, so just like everyday for the past week Steve waited, and when the clock hit 9 and she still hadn't called he called her, and for the 7th time in a row Sharon didn't answer. It was the distance, Steve thought. But then again DC was as far away from New York as New York was from DC, and he was still trying. Steve picked up his phone and opened his messaging app, he opened his conversation with Sharon and read it over.

 

**Saturday**

**09:14 pm**

**Steve:** _ Hi baby, I hope you’re okay, you didn’t call or pick up, so let me know you’re okay. _

_ Love you xx _

**Sunday**

**10:43 am**

**Sharon:** _Sorry had a late night._

**10:46 am**

**Steve:** _ As long as everything’s alright baby. _

**09:08 pm**

**Steve:** _ I see work hasn’t gotten any lighter, hope you’re okay, love you _

**Monday**

**09:21 pm**

**Steve:** _ Any chance we can just text if you can’t talk, baby? _

**Tuesday**

**11:08 am**

**Sharon:** _ Too busy _

**09:15 pm**

**Steve:** _ Miss you Shar, you sure you can’t squeeze a few minutes for your boyfriend in your tight schedule? Hope we can talk tomorrow. _

**Wednesday**

**09:10 pm**

**Steve:** _ Have a good night. _

**Thursday**

**09:17 pm**

**Steve:** _ If you’re reading the messages you could at least answer me. _

 

Steve checked again if Sharon had actually read the messages, hoping he had been wrong. Of course he wasn’t, so he started to type again.  _ Miss you,  _ he started, but he said that already.  _ Hope we can talk tomorrow, _ alas he said that too. Steve put down his phone, and rubbed his eyes with his hands. What even was the point of texting her again? He’d wait, he decided. He’d wait and see how long it took her to text him or call him.

 

The next morning when Steve’s alarm clock went off at 7 am, he turned it off and went back to sleep, it was a Saturday, after all and he didn’t have to work. He woke up at nine, and then took a shower, brushed his teeth. He looked his reflection in the mirror, the slight stubble coming in, and for the first time in over a year, Steve didn’t shave. Sharon was the one who had asked him to not let his beard grow, anyway. 

 

That night Steve waited for Sharon to call or text, but she didn’t and by 9 pm he was done being alone in his apartment sulking, so he went somewhere he knew he would feel welcome.

 

He decided to walk to The Falcon. Usually Steve would have taken a taxi, but not today. Today Steve wanted to wallow, so he walked. Slowly and surely, with his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, kicking at pebbles and leaves he saw on the floor, until finally he reached Peggy and Sam’s bar. He walked straight to the counter, finding his preferred seat empty and waiting for him. The place was moderately full, but it was quiet enough that Sam could leave his bartenders alone for a few minutes, besides, Peggy was there, she wouldn’t let them slack.

 

“Hey,” Sam said leaning forwards to tap Steve’s shoulder, “How are you doing?” he asked with the certainty of someone who already knew the answer to his own question.

“Not good,” Steve said, knowing lying was useless with Sam, “I need a drink, Sam.” 

“Sure, what kind?” 

“Strong.” 

 

So Steve sat there, taking far to big gulps of his drink until it was gone. Then, he told Sam. He told him how for a month she’d been too busy, but still called most nights, still replied when he texted, but not this time. He showed him the texts and asked Sam to leave the bottle, tomorrow was a Sunday, he could afford the hangover.

 

“Samuel Thomas,” Peggy exclaimed, approaching the two of them, “I don’t pay you to stand about chatting.”

“Margaret Elizabeth,” Sam shot back, “You don’t pay me,  _ period.  _ This is as much mine as it is yours, and it’s not my fault Steve’s having a rough day.” 

Steve huffed out a dry laugh, “Day. That’s funny.” 

“What’s wrong, darling?” she asked him reaching for the hand he had clasped around the glass.

“I think Sharon’s done with me, Peggy,” so Steve, still sat in the same seat, told Peggy everything he had just told Sam, showed her the same messages and call logs he had shown his other friend.

By the end of it Peggy stood confused, “But this doesn’t make sense, I’ve spoken to her every afternoon this week, and most of the day for the past month, she never said anything about being busy.” 

Steve’s heart sank in his chest like a knife had been plunged into it, “It’s me, Pegs, has to be,” he told her trying to make it seem it didn’t hurt him the way it did. 

 

For that whole night, Steve barely moved outside of lifting his glass to his lips, and tipping the bottle into the glass. He stayed until closing, Sam dragged him to his car and drove him home. Steve thinks he remembered to thank his friend for taking him home when he was that drunk, and for making Steve change into something more comfortable before he settled in bed. He knows for sure he thanked Sam when he woke up the next morning and saw some aspirin and a glass of water on his nightstand. But it didn’t change things. Sharon had been lying to him, because if she had been regularly speaking to her cousin then she would’ve had the time for Steve too. It hurt. She could have said something, he thought. Now it just hurt.

 

***

 

Steve decided that he deserved a full week of self-pity but Peggy disagreed. She thought Steve needed to do things outside of wallowing, so she commanded him to come to The Falcon, but not to drink. She explicitly told him over the phone, she had worked hard in making sure the place had an English Pub feeling to it, so they needed a sign, and she informed Steve that he would be designing it free of charge.

 

Yet again Steve chose to walk, so  he could commiserate before Peggy and Sam got all up on his business. He was only taking his sketchbook, pencils and tablet with him and it all fit in the oversized pockets of his coat, so walking wasn’t a hardship. He stopped at the counter to say hi before he retreated to one of the booths by the wall. He preferred the counter, really, but whenever he wanted some privacy that booth had proven valuable, he particularly liked that there was a direct view of the door so he could see all the different kinds of people who would come in, it was always unexpected.

 

That night Steve didn’t spare the door too many glances. He was enthralled by his work, having made multiple sketches with some added hints of colour. He called Peggy over, had her pick which one was her favourite, he knew Sam had picked the name because falcons were a symbol of success and victory, so he tried to include his friends vision in his work. He knew this would be Peggy’s choice because she let Sam pick the name. Ultimately she choose the red and blue design, and took it over to Sam without even saying a word to Steve. 

 

He was smiling at his friends’ excitement when he heard the door open. He shifted his gaze towards it, and god, never in his life had Steve ever seen a man like this. Steve could swear time had slowed down as he sat mesmerized, staring at  _ him _ . The door was close enough to where he sat that he could make out the impossibly light and beautiful blue of the man’s eyes, his swollen red lips, and the adorable dimple in his chin that Steve instantly decided was the perfect place to rest his thumb if he were to hold the man’s face and kiss him. But that wasn’t it, no, he had long hair, that framed his face, one side of it was tucked behind his ear exposing his sharp jawline. Steve was certain this man was perfect, and he hadn’t even let his eyes wander past his face. He was about to, but then all too soon, his hopes--whatever they may have been--were crushed, time sped up again and another man was stood behind the first one, hugging him from behind around his waist. It was fitting, Steve thought, that the first time his heart had beaten this fast in his chest, the person responsible for it would be taken. He figured he had no reason to be surprised, not when the man looked like that. It didn’t make it any less disappointing, but by now Steve was used to it. He grabbed his tablet, and started drawing from memory, Peggy hadn’t returned his sketchbook yet. He didn’t even notice it when they sat in the booth in front of his, not until he heard them argue.

 

Steve didn’t realise what was going on at first, but then Peggy sent Sam to his booth with a beer and he was pulled out of his bubble. First he heard their voices even though he couldn’t make out what they were saying, and then he looked over to the booth and he saw back of the man’s head, and the guy he came in with looking angry, his hand balled up in a fist on top of the table. Steve looked back at his tablet, not wanting to listen in, yet he couldn’t stop, so he lazily traced parts of the design as he heard the guy’s voice.

 

“You’re being completely unreasonable and you know it Bucky,” the said, his voice rough and mean. 

“I’m not, Brock. I’m not,” the man - Bucky, Steve had learned - replied. He sounded tired. Tired and hurt, and that pulled at Steve’s heartstrings for some reason he couldn’t understand. “We’ve been doing this for a while now, Brock, do you even know long it’s been?”

“Bucky, I-”

“Two and a half years,” Bucky interrupted, “it’s been two and a half years. And at first it was good. It really was. And there’s a part of me that is saying I should throw my common sense out of the window and stay with you,” Steve heard him inhale sharply, “But I can’t. For a while now it just feels to me like you’re not really committed to this relationship, and I can’t live with that, knowing you’ll never actually be 100% there for me, and you keep blaming it on your family being christian and having come out to them, which I get it, Brock, it’s scary and you never know how it’s going to go, but I can’t be your dirty little secret forever. I can’t, I deserve more than that.”  

 

“This is bullshit, Bucky. You fucking know how I feel about you and that this isn’t my fault,” Brock slammed his fist on the table, and Steve’s eyes looked up without moving his head to find him gripping Bucky’s wrist hard enough that his knuckles had gone white, his eyes giving off nothing but rage. Steve put down the stylus he was using to draw and was getting ready to stand up. He didn’t know Bucky, but he knew Bucky deserved better than someone who behaved like this Brock guy. Besides, Steve was never one to back down from a fight, especially not if he was fighting assholes like the kind Brock seemed to be that think they’re entitled to everything without ever actually working for it. But just as Steve was about to stand he heard Bucky’s voice.

 

“No, Brock, you’re bullshit,” Bucky pulled his wrist away from Brock’s grasp and Steve went back to pretending to not listen, he really should stop, but he liked the way Bucky’s voice had dropped the hurt and was full of confidence. “Do you want me to tell you exactly how your life’s gonna go? You’re gonna work the same shitty job you don’t even like until your uncle dies and you can take over the company. You’re gonna marry some girl Pierce tells you too because you know as long as you do what he wants he’ll give you money. You’re gonna pump her full of kids because Pierce wants you too, and you won’t even like doing it, Brock, and I feel bad for her. And I feel even worse for the kids, because you’re not capable of love Brock. I gave you every chance to prove to me there was something worth fighting for here but all you ever do is treat me like I’m just a hole for you to fuck. And that’s all I am to you isn’t? I’m the idiot who thought you could love him. I’m the idiot you threw money at, with dinners and getaways and gifts, when all I wanted was the same love and respect I gave you. All you ever did was treat me like I was your whore and I’m not, not your whore or anyone else’s. So I’m done, Brock. I’m done. And you need to forget I exist because I’m not going through any of this, ever again. I deserve better someone better than you.”

“You’re gonna regret this,” Brock said getting up, “you’re making a huge mistake, Bucky.”

“No. I don’t think I am.”

 

Brock left, and Steve was paralyzed in his seat, he wasn’t sure why, but he thought it was because he was in awe at what Bucky had just done. In awe at his strength and self respect. And Steve smiled, because he realized he might have a little crush on Bucky, even if he had only seen his face once, even if all he knew about Bucky was how much Brock had hurt him. He was going to get up and talk to Bucky. He’d apologize for eavesdropping first, then he’d say his girlfriend of a year and a half ghosted him, he’d tell Bucky how awestruck he was at his words, and how he wished he could have that kind of strength, and then maybe Steve would finally have his rebound from Sharon, if Bucky wanted one this early, and if the conversation didn’t take them there then Steve would make a friend, and Bucky sounded like the type of guy you’d want as a friend. Steve took a big gulp of his beer, liquid courage one could call it, and made a move to get up, but then Bucky brought his phone to his ear.

 

“Hey Tasha,” he said after waiting a few seconds, “Yeah he left a few minutes ago. No, he’s not coming back, I ended it. Yes I am sure, now would you and Clint get over here already? It’s not everyday that you get out of a terrible relationship, we need to celebrate! 5 minutes? Like actually 5 minutes, or Clint’s 5 minutes, Tasha? Okay, I’ll see you in 5 minutes then. Bye,” as soon as he hung up Bucky let out a short sigh, huffed out a dry laugh, and then he dropped his shoulders and rested his forehead on the table. And Steve realised he had been naive, Bucky didn’t want a rebound or a new friend. He was trying to hold himself together while waiting for his friends to get there. He wanted the people he knew and loved by his side comforting him and distracting him, and not some idiot who would tell him he understood his feelings without even knowing him. 

 

So Steve never did get up, instead going back to drawing and drinking his beer, trying his hardest to ignore the way the sound of Bucky’s voice was claiming a spot in his brain. He ignored the conversations and the laughs and the drunken proclamations of affection Bucky and his friends were making to each other. It was fine, Steve thought, by the time he woke up tomorrow Steve wouldn’t even remember why he had been so infatuated with the idea of Bucky, and as soon as they both left The Falcon, Steve would never see Bucky again, and Bucky? Well Bucky hadn’t seen Steve at all. His hopes almost faltered when after Sam announced last call and everyone got their last drinks Bucky’s friend, the one Steve guessed was Clint, yelled out, “This is our bar now, Barnes!” But they were drunk, so Steve was certain they’d forget about this place, and Steve would never have to face whatever attraction he felt towards Bucky.

 

Steve actually managed to push Bucky off his mind for the whole week after he first saw him, until the day he walked into The Falcon and saw him and in friends inside. He wasn’t worried though, he was sure it was a one time incident. But they were there next week, and the week after that, and Steve was starting to think there was no way he would get rid of his silly middle-school like crush, and it sure didn’t help that they were there every week for the next two months. Steve had to let it sink in, it really was their bar now.

 

***

 

One night, three months in, Steve walked into The Falcon, shrugged off his coat and went straight to his spot on the counter. He didn’t spare the rest of the place a single glance, he didn’t want to know if Bucky was there and he didn’t want to spend another night trying to stop himself from ogling him.

“Steven do you not think that it’s time you get a haircut and rid yourself of that depression beard?” Peggy said, setting his usual drink in front of him.

“Hello to you too,” he told her taking a sip, “ I like my hair on the longer side, and this is a freedom beard, Pegs. Your cousin hated it and I happen to love it. Makes me look wise and distinct.” 

“Sure it does, darling, whatever you say.” 

He continued to sip his drink occasionally chatting with Sam or Peggy, or keeping to himself until he noticed someone was stood next to him, so he turned to look and almost choked on his own tongue when he noticed it was Bucky. He looked stunned and Steve didn’t know to say or do, “Are you okay?” he wound up asking.

“I- umm, I,” he paused, for a few seconds, “Hi! I’m Bucky,” he said holding out his hand for Steve to shake.

“Hi, Bucky. I’m Steve,” and just then Steve realised that he’d been pining for this man for three months now, and he had never before said his name out loud, he could get used to it.

“Hi, Steve. I’m going to be honest here. Earlier I told my friends I could pick up anyone in this bar because I’m a sex god and they took it upon themselves to ruin my faith in myself, and chose you. I’m not under the impression that you’ll actually leave this place with me tonight, but I don’t like to lose,” Bucky told him almost in a hurry, if only he knew he only had to ask and Steve would be out of the place with Bucky faster than the speed of light.

“So what do you want from me?” Steve decided to ask him with a smirk.

“If could be so kind as to type your name in my phone and give a fake number,” Bucky asked.

“Sure,” Steve held out his hand for Bucky’s phone, “Your friends, are they the redhead and the blond?” he asked even if he already knew.

“Yes. Why? Are they staring?” 

“Yes they are,” Steve said, “You should kiss my cheek,” it was cheeky, but even though Steve had just typed his real number in his phone he doubted Bucky would call, so he figured feeling Bucky’s lips on his cheek was the least he could get.

“I should what?”

“Kiss my cheek,” Steve repeated handing Bucky his phone back hoping he hadn’t creeped him out, “Before you go? So your friends see it.” 

“Oh! Right! That makes sense!”

Bucky rested his hand rest on Steve’s bicep and leaned forward softly placing his lips on Steve’s cheek, and Steve’s heart picked up it’s pace in his chest.

“Thank you, Steve,” Bucky said already leaving.

“You’re welcome, Bucky. Don’t forget to call me,” Steve said, somehow hoping Bucky would understand that this was his real number.

“Will do,” Bucky laughed, and it was a lovely sound, but it told Steve Bucky thought he was kidding, he wouldn't call. Steve should have said something.

Well he was, Steve was going to to do something, he was. Bucky said his friends had taken it upon themselves to ruin his faith in himself by choosing Steve and that probably means he’s at least somewhat attracted to Steve! That’s what it has to mean. Steve’s going to finish his drink and walk to where Bucky’s sat and just go for it, he needs to try. 

His phone starts ringing just as he brings the glass to his lips, so he takes a sip before he answers, “Hello?”

“Hi! It’s Bucky,” he called. Bucky called and Steve’s heart is doing somersaults in his chest.

“I know I said call me but this is a bit soon, don’t you think?” Steve tells him with it the stupidest, biggest smile reckons he’s ever smiled.

“Oh I know, say Steve, if I asked you to look in my direction and wave do you think you’d be able to do that?” 

“Your friends I’m guessing?” Steve asked with a chuckle.

“Yeah, can you wave now?” and he did, he waved at Bucky’s friends, Clint even waved back, “Thank you, Steve.” 

“You’re welcome, Bucky.” 

“Okay, bye now,” Bucky said.

“Bye. Don’t forget to call me, I do want to find out if you really are a sex god if that was all talk,” Steve told him, with a smirk. Truthfully he’d be happy to just talk to him, but sass was his middle name.

“Oh I will, bye.” 

 

Steve’s smile could have lit up the whole of New York, he was sure of it. Sam walked past and asked him why he was smiling so much. Steve said he was happy. It had been a while since Steve actually felt happy. He felt someone tap his shoulder and lifted his gaze from where he was still clutching his phone in his hands.

“Hi,” Bucky told him shyly.

“Hi.” 

“You gave me your real number,” he told Steve. Almost as if he couldn’t believe it.

“I did.” 

“So does that mean, you’d like to get a drink?” and Bucky’s eyes, those beautiful blue eyes that almost looked grey, they bore into Steve’s. And Steve wanted to kiss him, to pull him as close as humanly possible and kiss him breathless.

Instead he said, “yeah, Bucky, I’d love to get a drink.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for today!! I really hope you enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it!  
> Feel free to drop by [my writing blog](https://the-hell-i-cant-im-a-captain.tumblr.com) where you'll find rebloggable versions of all my fics, and by [my main blog](https://its-a-pretty-interesting-wall.tumblr.com) where I post about Marvel and how perfect I find Chris Evans, mostly.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to drop by [my writing blog](https://the-hell-i-cant-im-a-captain.tumblr.com) where you'll find rebloggable versions of all my fics, and by [my main blog](https://its-a-pretty-interesting-wall.tumblr.com) where I post about Marvel and how perfect I find Chris Evans, mostly.


End file.
